


Gently Drifting

by EchoSilverWolf



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, I do not consent to my work being reposted outside of ao3, M/M, Mistletoe, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 16:36:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21930469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoSilverWolf/pseuds/EchoSilverWolf
Summary: "It's not only important to knowFor whom we waitBut to know who waits for us"-Trans Siberian Orchestra'The Christmas Attic'
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 78





	Gently Drifting

**Author's Note:**

> It's the smell of cinnamon and clove that rouses him. Cinnamon, clove and some very off-key ethereal humming _._

He's currently sprawled haphazardly over Aziraphale's sofa, covered in the pleasant warmth of a knitted afghan that most definitely was not there the night before. Forgot to sober up, then. Bit embarrassing that, but the amount of alcohol consumed the previous evening would've put even Lucifer himself right on his feathered arse. 

He opens his eyes with a stretch and immediately groans; slams them shut again.

_Fucking hell?! That is just_ not _on._

Damned human corporations and the _very_ unpleasant nonsense of hangovers _._

Before he can miracle away said unpleasantness himself the humming stops. Turning gingerly, he squints one eye at an unusually rumpled angel poking his head into the room. 

"Crowley, are you quite alright? I heard a...oh! My dear, you look positively wretched!" Aziraphale tuts at him, coming close to pass a hand down over his face, blessedly relieving him of his alcohol induced misery.

"There now, darling! Right as rain. I've put some tea on, if you'd like!" and with that he and his absolutely-too-chipper-for-nine-in-the-morning humming are out of sight again.

_Darling? That one's new...never been_ 'darling' _before._

May as well get up and see what he's doing out there. The scent of mulled tea isn't a bad incentive either. He has half a mind to drag the blanket along with him when his bare feet hit the ancient wooden floor. Has no memory of where or when his shoes AND socks came off. His glasses too, are strangely not anywhere to be seen. 

"Hey, Ang- _what the?!…"_ he calls out as he pads into the front of the shop, but stops short as his still sleep-dull brain tries to catch up with what's in front of him. 

There is gold and silver garland winding around every pillar. Holly and Ivy creeping, hanging over the tops of bookshelves. And the entirety of the center of the room has been cleared (he can't recall it ever having been moved before) to make room for an enormous fir tree adorned top to bottom with delicate twinkling-white fairy lights and an overabundance of tinsel. It's warm and festive and absolutely unprecedented. He knows Aziraphale has always _liked_ Christmas, or the idea of Christmas anyway, but he's never actually _decorated_ before. 

He's still gawking when Aziraphale appears from the other side of the tree, bits of stray tinsel in his hair, his smile turning slightly uncertain. 

"Oh, dear, Is it too much? I hope not, but I can always tone it down a -"

Still standing in the entrance to the room, he interrupts before Aziraphale can finish.

"Nah, s'good angel, it is. Just a shock first thing in the morning s'all. You've never done the whole holiday thing before, what gives?"

Aziraphale ducks his head, fiddling nervously with his ring for a moment. 

"I thought, seeing how we've been 'off the radar' so to speak for months now, that it might be nice to try something new. Something a bit more 'native'. And seeing as you're here more often than not, it might be nice...I mean...perhaps...only if you want to, of course...we could try celebrating a holiday. Together."

He knows, without his glasses, he is failing miserably at not looking utterly gobsmacked. His voice has an embarrassingly higher pitch when he stutters out a reply. 

"Y-you want to do a proper holiday? Together? With me?"

"Well,of course with you, darling, who the heavens else would I spend I with?" 

And there's that word again. That new endearment. And he can't think coherently like this with ' _darling'_ and ' _we'_ and ' _together'_ being dropped all over the place first thing in the morning. This infuriatingly adorable angel with tinsel hanging over his left ear might _actually_ discorporate him with mere words.

Aziraphale, who has been watching him expectantly, frowns a bit.

"You don't want -"

"No! 'Course…'course we can. Proper Christmas, yeah? Anything you want, angel," he gestures at the room around them. "We can do all of it, with trees, and lights and -" Aziraphale's eyes drift up a bit above his head and he tracks them subconsciously with his own "- and mistle- _ohh_!"

The small green and white plant is attached to the woodwork. The woodwork he is currently standing directly under. He looks quickly back at Aziraphale, who has stepped closer, directly into his space.

"Anything?" Hopeful blue eyes have him pinned. He can't actually be suggesting…

"Anything...yeah. Whatever you -"

"Stay."

"Stay?"

"Yes. Stay. Here. If you like. Today, tomorrow, for Christmas... just...just _stay , Crowley_. It gets rather lonely when you're not around". Aziraphale's hand tentatively takes his own. Thick, sturdy fingers lacing between his long slender ones. And this is it. This is _definitely_ what will discorporate him. 

He opens his mouth. Shuts it again when it won't cooperate. Tries again.

"Yeah - yes, I...yeah". How is he expected to make words with Aziraphale just inches from his face, his sea-blue eyes full of something he can't name, asking him to _stay._ His brain has effectively shut down; Crowley.exec has stopped running. 

His own free hand decides to move without his permission. Reaches out, carefully brushes away the stray tinsel and is promptly covered by another.

"Crowley, _love_ ," Aziraphale whispers, drifting closer, pressing their bodies flush against one another. Someone whimpers. Crowley distantly realizes it came from himself. "I'd quite like, if it's alright that is, to -"

He tries for cool, but the tremble in his voice misses the mark completely.

"Go for it, ang _...mmph!"_

Aziraphale's lips are soft - warm against his own. Gentle but insistant. He tastes like cinnamon and cloves; smells like heaven and pine and _home._

When they part, it's just enough to rest their heads together. 

"Y'know, angel, if I'm staying you're gonna need a better sofa, that one's hell to sleep on."

"Oh, darling, I think you'll find the bed is _far_ more comfortable."

"Ngk! Are you _trying_ to discorporate me?"

"That would be rather counterproductive, my dear."

"Incorrigible bastard."

"Mm. You love it."

"You've no idea, angel." 

"Merry Christmas, Crowely."

**Author's Note:**

> For Drawlight's advent challenge. I only had time to do one. 
> 
> This is not beta read so please excuse any grammatical errors i may have missed!
> 
> Hope you all have a wonderful 'whatever holiday you celebrate', and a Happy New Year!  
> -Echo


End file.
